In the Beginning
by Syvamiete
Summary: In the beginning, when God created the angels.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** Started this story to celebrate 9th birthday of Supernatural.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

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"_In the beginning was the Word." _Joh. 1:1

It all begins from a word. A name.

"Michael."

He opens his eyes. A warm light surrounds him. He can feel the loving presence even before he can see the silhouette above him. He blinks a few times searching for a correct word.

"Father," he finally says.

A gentle hand caresses his feathers. "Son."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** Couldn't contain myself and decided to post this way sooner than I planned.

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"Michael," He calls him.

"Yes, Father," he answers.

"Come closer,"

He moves slowly closer. And then he sees it, quite possible the most beautiful thing he have ever seen. It stretches its wings in his Father's lap. They glimmer in the soft light. "I have created you a brother." He gives him to Michael, who takes him cautiously. The fledgling nuzzles closer to the new source of warmth.

"What's his name?" Michael asks.

"Lucifer."

The name is fitting. _The Morning Star_. Michael strokes the fledgling's wings.

"I want you to raise him."

Michael opens his mouth to protest. How could he be in charge of something so tiny, so fragile…?

"You are a good son, Michael," his Father says smoothing his feathers. "Raise him with the best of your ability, like I have raised you."

Michael looks at the fledgling in his arms and then back to his Father. "I will," he promises.

* * *

"Spread your wings," Michael instructs and Lucifer does just that. They are in the Garden, their Father's most recent creation. "Now, jump a little and start to stroke slowly with your wings."

Lucifer does as he's told, but manages to create only a small wind that rustles the nearby leaves. "I can't. I can't fly."

Michael laughs and ruffles his brother's wings. "Don't give up so easily. It can take some time. It took me more than ten tries to even get off the ground."

Lucifer looks skeptical, but spreads his wings again. "Try this time stronger and deeper strokes," Michael advices.

Lucifer angles his wings as Michael has shown and closes his eyes to concentrate. Finally, he opens them and starts to stroke. The leaves rustle around them. Slowly but surely he starts to get some air under them. And ultimately, his feet rise from the grass.

"Michael! Michael, look! I can fly!" He can barely hold his excitement. He gains height and twists his wings to move forward.

"Yes, I can see th‒ Lucifer!"

He hasn't been watching where he's going, so he hits one of the thick braches of the nearby trees and falls to a bush below.

"Lucifer!"

He rushes through the vegetation until he finds his brother lying on the grass and staring owlishly at the trees branching over him.

"Lucifer, are you hurt? Lucifer, answer to me," Michael pulls him in to a sitting position. "Lucifer!"

He shakes his head and focuses his dumbfounded eyes to Michael. "I'm okay."

Michael closes his eyes and voicelessly thanks Father and pulls him close, surrounding them with his wings.

Lucifer starts to giggle against his chest; the shock wearing off. "Did you see that? I flew!"

Michael burrows his face to the top of his head. "Yes, I saw that."


	3. Chapter 3

"Who is he?" Lucifer asks petting their new brother's feathers. Their color varies from creamy white to cold brown.

"Raphael," their Father answers.

Michael watches the fledgling in his arms. "Healer of God."

"He already has a destiny even though he's barely a moment old?" Lucifer looks surprised.

"I never create anyone without a purpose," says Father brushing Lucifer's wings.

A soft wind ruffles his feathers as he stands at the cliff. It's not particularly high, less than twenty meters, his Father has created many more majestic ones, but this one's good enough.

He stretches his wings as he has seen Michael and Lucifer do. He has watched them do it so many times he knows the stages by heart. Stretching out; slow, deep strikes; and if necessary, a little push to get into air.

So far, he hadn't succeeded, but he had always tried to take off from the ground. Maybe he just needed a bigger push.

"Have you seen Raphael?" Lucifer asks.

Michael raises his gaze from the scriptures he has spread on the desk. "No. Why?"

"I haven't seen him for a while. Thought he might be shadowing you like usual. He's really trying to impress you, you know. I even once saw him trying to fly."

"Well, I haven't seen him the whole day," Michael frowns putting a piece of a script down. "He doesn't normally wonder off without saying something."

"Last time I saw him, he was on edge of the Garden near the cliffs."

It strikes both of them simultaneously.

His wings immediately catch some wind under them. The feeling is wonderful, the sense of weightlessness and control, both at the same time. Now he truly understands what Michael meant when he had said that flying was like an instinct. It feels so right.

But it surely is hard. His wings start to feel heavy and his muscles burn. He starts to lose height. He beats his wings fervently down but it has little effect. Panic starts to seep into his mind when his muscles start to cramp. Even though he keeps stubbornly slapping his wings, there's nothing he can do to cut off the fall.

Just as he's sure he's going to hit the ground, he's pulled against something warm which softens the impact. Everything spins. Somewhere in the distance, he hears his brother's worried calls. He clings tighter into something soft to stop the shaking. Then hands grab him, Lucifer is pulling him upright, prying his hold off. His vision starts to clear and he notices the gray blue feathers that fall on the moss when he opens his hand.

"Are you alright?" Lucifer asks turning Raphael to face him.

The leaves rustle behind him and when he turns, Michael is sitting up. Raphael's attention is drawn to his wings. He has always admired them: they are beautiful gray blue, in some parts almost black and the feathers are long and sleek. But now they are disarrayed and there's leaves and splinter in them. He looks at his feet where three gray primaries are lying. Nausea starts to coil in his stomach.

"Raphael," Lucifer turns him back at him. "Are you alright?"

He looks over his shoulder. "Michael…" he says softly.

"Is OK. But what about you? Are you hurt?"

"I'm okay," he mumbles keeping his eyes on the ground. Lucifer sighs from relief.

A hand starts to comb his own disarrayed wings. There's a sting in his eyes; he doesn't deserve this.

"Why did you jump," Michael asks voice level and calm, void of accusation.

"I," he tries to form words, to explain himself. "I wanted to fly. Like you."

Michael continues to straighten his feathers. "You know, it takes a certain time for a fledgling's wings to develop properly. Before that, flying is physically impossible. And even after that, it often takes time to learn to control them."

Raphael takes a deep breath and turns to press against his brother. "Sorry," he breaths to his midriff.

A comforting hand sets on his head. "It's alright. No harm done."


	4. Chapter 4

"Please stop that," Raphael says spinning irritated around.

His baby brother freezes mid-step like a deer in headlights. "Stop what?" he asks as innocently as possible.

"Stop shadowing me, it's annoying. Don't you have anything better to do?"

Gabriel slumps sitting on the grass. "I'm bored," he whines. "Dad has something really important to talk about with Mike and he said that I don't want to know what would happen if I would disturb them."

"Then go to Lucifer, he'll find you something to do."

Leaves on his left rustle and as from a queue his other brother drops swinging upside down on a tree branch. "But what if I told you that I'm just as bored?"

"How's it my problem that you don't know how to entertain yourselves?"

"Since Michael is tied up with Dad, you're the only we can torment right now," Lucifer grins

Raphael sighs. "Unlike you, some of us have actually some work to do. We should actually soon start to introduce Gabriel some of his tasks," he looks at fledgling, who's watching them curiously. "It would be good for him. He starts to resemble you more and more."

"And that's bad why?" Lucifer asks his grin turning cheeky.

Raphael throws him a scowl and pushes him making him to fall from the tree and strides away without looking back so that they don't see his smile.

Lucifer lies on the grass laughing quietly to himself his voice hitching when Gabriel bounces on top of him.

"Did Raphael get mad at us," the fledgling asks looking at where their brother had disappeared.

"Nah, don't worry about that," he smoothed his wings. "He's just emotionally constipated. I thought no one could be more stick-in-the-mud than Michael, but still," he shrugs. "We just have to love them the way they are, right?"

Gabriel looks at him and nods.

"And by the way, about how Raphael noticed you were trailing him. Next time try not to be invisible but aim to blend into the surrounding. There's nothing more suspicious than a complete silence."

They lie there for a while Gabriel pondering his brother's advice and Lucifer tracking his fingers through his feathers. "I know Michael can be a bit stiff, but there's one thing he's much better than you," the fledgling says eventually.

"And what's that?" Lucifer asked raising a brow.

"He's much more comfortable to lie on. You squirm far too much." He spreads his wings to gain better balance.

Lucifer burst into laughter. "Well, that's an honor I may be able to give him."


End file.
